Always With Me: Whisper Lake #1 Page 2

  Panic ran through her. She'd never been a great swimmer. Why the hell had she come out onto the pier?

  She kicked and kicked, weighed down by her clothes and her shoes, but finally she reached the surface. The shore felt like a mile away, even though it was probably only about thirty feet. She tried to swim, but she couldn't seem to get anywhere. And then she saw someone running toward her.

  He wouldn't be able to get to her because the pier was completely gone.

  That didn't stop him. He kicked off his shoes and jumped into the water, and in that moment, she had a sense of déjà vu—this had happened before. Not exactly like this, but close.

  Or was she losing her mind?

  Was the bump on her head turning her rescuer into the guy she'd just been thinking about—into Zach Barrington?

  As he drew closer, she saw dark hair and startling green eyes.

  Her stomach turned over.

  No way! It couldn't be!

  "I've got you," he said, grabbing her arm.

  She stared back at him in shock and saw an echo of surprise in his expression.

  "Gianna?" he muttered.

  "Zach?"

  "You're bleeding."

  "What?"

  "Your head. Come on, we need to get you out of the water."

  "What are you doing here?" she asked in a daze.

  He didn't answer, just put his arm around her waist and started dragging her toward the shore. She kicked along with him, relieved when she could feel the ground under her feet.

  They staggered out of the water, onto the shore, and then stopped and stared at each other. It was a long look filled with so much emotion—shock, curiosity, sadness, anger…

  "I can't believe it's you," he muttered.

  "Are you sorry?" she asked, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "That you pulled me out of the water?"

  His gaze narrowed. "Am I going to be?"

  Chapter Two

  Zach couldn't believe Gianna Campbell was standing in front of him. She was taller now, not as skinny as she'd been as a teenager, no braces on her now straight white teeth, and her light-brown eyes still sparked with gold when she was angry or upset, and she was clearly feeling both of those emotions, just as he was.

  He'd volunteered to redesign the camp, because he'd needed to come back to Whisper Lake for a few different reasons. Gianna hadn't been one of them. He'd heard she'd left the area years ago. Apparently, she was back.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked.

  She folded her arms in front of her chest, perhaps aware for the first time that her sleeveless blouse was clinging to her breasts, and beautiful breasts they were. She'd filled out since he'd last seen her. At fifteen, she'd been skinny—all gangly arms and legs, not a single curve. That had definitely changed.

  "What are you doing here?" she countered, a puzzled frown drawing her brows together.

  "I'm an architect. I'm handling the camp remodel."

  Wonder widened her eyes. "Seriously? I thought you were going to be a pro baseball player."

  "In my dreams maybe. I grew up and realized my fastball wasn't all that fast." He tipped his head. "Now, it's your turn. What are you doing here? I didn't think you were living in Whisper Lake anymore."

  "I'm visiting for the summer. I've been living in Los Angeles, but my aunt broke her leg, and she needed help with her antiques shop. I had some time, so here I am."

  "You work in antiques? I thought you'd be doing something in art."

  "I'm actually a graphic artist. I'm just helping my aunt out."

  He nodded with understanding. "That makes more sense. You couldn't sit in front of anything without trying to draw it. What are you doing here at the camp? Just taking a journey down memory lane?"

  "No. Tom Rowland's son put some furniture aside for my aunt when they cleaned out Tom's apartment. Do you remember Tom?"

  "Of course. Tom was the one who sent me home after you accused me of stealing your necklace."

  Gianna cleared her throat at the reminder. "Right." She stared back at him, as if she had no clue what to say next, and to be honest, he didn't, either. "Thanks for pulling me out of the water," she said finally. "The water was so cold, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I'd forgotten how icy the water is in early summer."

  "No problem. I think I did it once before."

  She flushed at his words. "It wasn't quite the same."

  "Close enough. You were in trouble, and I saved you."

  "I could have made it to shore—both times," she said defensively.

  He shrugged. "I guess we'll never know."

  "Would you have rescued me if you'd known it was me when you jumped in? I know you don't like me, Zach."

  "And you don't like me, but my feelings about you didn't factor in."

  She stared back at him, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Finally, she said, "I need to get down to the lodge and pick up the furniture."

  "What you need are some dry clothes. I have an extra sweatshirt in my truck if you're interested."

  He thought she would immediately reject the idea, but apparently her soaking top was enough to get her to consider borrowing his shirt.

  "I wouldn't say no to that," she said slowly.

  "Follow me." He walked over to his truck and opened the door to the cab, pulling out his suitcase. Setting it on the ground, he unzipped his bag and took out a gray sweatshirt. "Here you go."

  "What about you? You don't need this?"

  "I have another shirt." As he pulled his wet T-shirt over his head, he tried not to like the appreciative reaction in her eyes. All too quickly, her appreciation turned to concern, and he realized his mistake. His scars were six months old now and sometimes he forgot they were there.

  "What happened?" she asked, her gaze fixed on his chest, on the white lines, the blistered skin.

  "It doesn't matter." He picked up a dry T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He'd change his pants later.

  While he was doing that, Gianna managed to shimmy out of her wet shirt while under cover from his sweatshirt that hung down to her thighs.

  "Thanks," she said. "I feel better now. I can deal with wet jeans."

  He reached back into the truck and pulled out a paper towel. "You have blood on your forehead. You might need a stitch."

  She took the towel and dabbed at her head. He would have offered to do it for her, but there was a stiffness to her posture that told him that would not be a welcome suggestion.

  "There's not a lot of blood," she murmured, glancing at the paper towel.

  "The cut doesn't appear to be deep, but you have a nice bump. Does it hurt?"

  "It's not too bad. I'm sure it's fine." She paused, giving him a speculative look. "Are you staying here at the camp?"

  "No, I'm at the Firefly Inn, although I haven't checked in yet. I just arrived and wanted to take some measurements before I lost the light. I don't know if Hunter has had the electricity turned on in the lodge yet."

  "Hunter?"

  "Hunter Callaway. He's one of the new owners. He should be arriving soon."

  "Arriving from where?" she asked curiously. "What's his story? Why is he buying this old camp?"

  "Hunter is from San Francisco. He's a firefighter, but he has been looking for a career change. His cousin Lizzie Cole runs the Firefly Inn. Do you know Lizzie?"

  "Yes. I've known Lizzie and her siblings since we were kids. The Coles came to the lake almost every summer to visit their grandparents, who lived down the street from me. I heard Lizzie had purchased the inn and is completely redoing it."

  "It's mostly done now, from what I understand. Anyway, Lizzie told Hunter that the camp was for sale. He got a family group of investors together to purchase the property. He and his fiancée Cassidy Ellison will be managing it once it's ready to reopen."

  "How did you get involved in the project?"

  "Hunter and I are friends. I've been living in San Francisco the last ten years. He ment
ioned the camp to me, and I told him I spent one eventful summer here. He asked me if I'd like to design the remodel."

  "And you said yes after the way you left? Why? I would think you'd hate this place, that it would be the last project you'd want to work on."

  "I have more good memories than bad. And a job is a job."

  She gave him a doubtful look. "That's it?"

  He wasn't going to get into his other reasons for wanting to come back to the lake. "Isn't that enough?"

  "Not really. I don't understand why you would care about this camp. You got kicked out."

  "But the six weeks before that brought me back to life after my dad's death. It was a great place to heal, and even though I don't like that I was blamed for something I didn't do," he said pointedly, "I still have a soft spot in my heart for this place."

  "I can't believe you're still denying that you took my necklace."

  "Because I didn't take it, and that will be the truth forever, Gianna."

  Her lips tightened. "Fine. We don't need to get into all that. It was a long time ago. I have to get down to the lodge." She headed toward the truck that bore the logo and name of her aunt's antiques shop.

  He tossed his suitcase into the back of his vehicle as anger ran through him. He was pissed off that she still didn't believe him. But she was right about one thing. It was a long time ago, and there was clearly no point in getting into it, especially when her mind was as closed as ever. Once she picked up her antiques, hopefully they would never have to speak again.

  Zach Barrington—how could he possibly be here?

  As Gianna slid behind the wheel and sucked in a deep breath, she could smell his musky cologne. She could feel his warmth, as if it were his arms around her, and not the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

  It was crazy to have such an intense physical and emotional reaction to him. It had been fourteen years since they'd spent six weeks together. They'd been teenagers then, flirting with all the feelings of attraction and connection. He'd been her first real kiss, her first slow dance, her first make-out session—and her first heartbreak.

  She drew in a shaky breath. Zach was even more handsome now. His body had filled out. She'd seen that when he'd ripped off his wet shirt to reveal a very fit male physique. He had the muscled arms and rippling abs of an athlete, not an architect. But what about those scars?

  It looked like he'd been in a fire or something…

  Clearly, he hadn't wanted to talk about it. And why would he?

  They weren't friends. They hadn't been in a long time.

  Zach was a man now. He'd had a day's growth of beard on his jaw. The planes of his face were hard. There were lines around his eyes. He'd lived a lot of life between now and when they'd last seen each other, and so had she.

  But some things were the same. His wavy brown hair was still just long enough to imagine running her fingers through it. And his eyes—his deep-green eyes were as expressive as ever, although he seemed more secretive now. Back in the day, every emotion had played out in his gaze, including desire.

  She hadn't really understood it then. She'd been so young, so naïve. Boys had been a mystery to her, especially popular, handsome boys, who didn't usually pay her much attention. But Zach had liked her drawing. He'd always wanted to see what she was doing. He hadn't made fun of her for choosing art when everyone else was boating or swimming or horseback riding.

  He'd turned out to be an artist himself. Maybe that's why he'd appreciated her skills. As an architect, he'd obviously done some drawing over the years.

  But why he'd come back to this camp still confused her. Sure, it was a job, and it was for a friend, but she had a feeling there was some other reason he'd decided to take on the assignment.

  Did that reason have something to do with his scars?

  Dragging her mind back to the present, she swerved to avoid a large pothole near the old barn and stables that had been abandoned for years. When the grand lodge came into view, the knot in her throat thickened. The three-story building had once housed a large kitchen, dining hall, living room and library on the first floor, and then a half-dozen bedrooms on the second floor that had housed camp staff.

  Tom's apartment had taken up the entire top floor. As a kid, she'd felt like the lodge was a luxurious mansion. The long, wide porch had always been set with Adirondack chairs, and she'd spent many an afternoon reading in one of those chairs. Now, everything just looked sad and unhappy.

  She parked in front of the lodge as Zach did the same. Before getting out of the truck, she checked her reflection in the mirror. She had a big bump, but the cut didn't look too bad, and the bleeding had stopped. At least she hadn't knocked herself out—one good thing in a fairly troubling day.

  She met up with Zach on the large porch. He unlocked the door and waved her inside.

  The grand foyer was as depressing as the outside of the lodge. It needed everything: a new floor, new paint, new stairs. And it smelled awful.

  She wrinkled her nose. "Do I want to ask what that smell is?"

  "Probably better not to know. What did you say you're here to pick up?"

  "All this stuff." She walked over to the grouping of random furniture pieces. There was more than she expected: three arm chairs, two dressers, a bookcase, two side tables, a coffee table, nightstand, several lamps, a half-dozen paintings, and three large boxes.

  "You think that's all going to fit in the truck?" Zach asked, doubt in his voice.

  "It looks like it will take two trips. My aunt didn't know what Tom's son was sending to the store. But she didn't want to say no to anything without seeing it for herself. She has found a lot of treasure in what looks like junk."

  "None of this looks like treasure."

  She didn't think so, either. "You never know. It might be worth something with a little attention."

  "Or not."

  "Well, I'll leave it to my aunt to determine that. Were you expecting the lodge to look like this?"

  "I have to admit, I didn't think it would be this run-down."

  "Tom was sick for a long time. He didn't want to leave. He lived upstairs until the very end. This place was his life. Now he's gone. It feels strange."

  "Did you return to camp after that summer we were here?"

  "No. I never came back."

  He stared back at her, a hard gleam in his eyes.

  She took a quick breath. She didn't want to talk about the past, because she was terribly afraid of how emotional she felt right now. It wasn't just seeing Zach again after so many years; it was everything else that had happened in the last year. She'd come home to get away from her problems, from heartbreak. Having to deal with Zach was not what she wanted to do.

  The sound of a car horn broke through the tension between them.

  Zach moved toward the front door, and she followed more slowly, hovering in the doorway as he jogged down the steps to greet an attractive man in his early thirties, who had just arrived in a white SUV.

  "Hunter. You made it," Zach said, giving his friend a hearty handshake.

  "Sorry I'm a little late."

  "No problem. I just got here."

  "Are you…wet?" Hunter asked, his gaze narrowing.

  "I took an unexpected dip in the lake."

  "In your clothes?"

  "I had to rescue someone." As Zach turned in her direction, she wished she'd stayed inside the lodge. "Gianna, come down and meet the new owner." He turned back to Hunter. "Gianna took a walk on the pier and it broke. She ended up in the water, and I jumped in after her."

  "Hi," she said, as she moved toward the men, giving Hunter a sheepish smile. "I didn't realize the pier was in such a bad state."

  "I'm sorry," Hunter said, worry in his eyes. "I guess we should put warning signs up. I'm Hunter Callaway—the new owner."

  "Gianna Campbell."

  "Do you need to see a doctor?" he asked with concern. "You have a good bump on your forehead."

  "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. And I'm v
ery happy that you're bringing the camp back to life. It was a great place for a long time. It would be nice to see it that way again."

  "That's the plan."

  She cleared her throat. "You're probably wondering why I'm here. My aunt runs an antiques shop, and the Rowland family left some furniture and boxes in the lodge for her to pick up. She sent me in her place."

  "That's fine," Hunter said. "Can I help you?"

  "Actually, that would be great." More helping hands would enable her to leave that much sooner. "I'm not sure it will all fit in my truck, but I can make a second trip."

  "Zach should be able to take the rest of it in his truck," Hunter said, as they moved toward the lodge.

  "I could do that," Zach agreed, giving her a speculative look.

  "That's an imposition."

  "I'll be going back to town in a few hours anyway—if you can wait that long. It's up to you, but I'm happy to do it. Why don't you give me your number, and I'll text you when I'm headed that way?"

  She hesitated, but pragmatism won out. It would be faster and more convenient if she allowed Zach to help her. "All right. Whenever you come by is fine. The shop is on Fourth Street—Antiques Galore. I'll either be there or in the apartment upstairs."

  "Sounds good." He gave her a cool smile that told her he knew she wasn't thrilled about accepting his help.

  He'd always been able to read her a little too well. It looked like she was going to have to see him again—at least one more time.

  Chapter Three

  After loading up both trucks, and sending Gianna on her way, Zach and Hunter headed back into the lodge.

  "Do I need to worry about a lawsuit from Gianna?" Hunter asked. "She probably has a case considering the pier wasn't closed down, and there weren't any signs."

  "I wouldn't think so, but who knows? Gianna can be surprising and not in a good way."